


As A Snack

by RobinWritesChirps



Series: The Apocalypse Is Upon Us (Starkid Post-Apocalypse AU) [3]
Category: Firebringer - Team StarKid
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Cunnilingus, F/F, Fluff and Smut, Nature, Outtakes, Picnics, Shameless Smut, Smut, top jemilla
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:13:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24784423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RobinWritesChirps/pseuds/RobinWritesChirps
Summary: Jemilla and Zazzalil’s life together comes with its set of joys and treats, and often not just one at a time.Outtake from my main fic "If We Ever Grow Apart", post-apocalypse AU, takes place after the fic.
Relationships: Jemilla/Zazzalil (Firebringer)
Series: The Apocalypse Is Upon Us (Starkid Post-Apocalypse AU) [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1643620
Comments: 12
Kudos: 13





	As A Snack

The Great Garden was great enough that they could walk for a whole day and still have much of the garden to explore, away from the dwellings, from spying eyes. Jemilla was happily breathing in the fresh air rich with the scents of flowers and fruit and long grass all around. They had been walking all morning for the perfect spot and she was having the time of her life. Zazzalil was a little less in the mood for exercise.

"Are we there yet?" She whined.

Jemilla cheered her onwards with a soft slap on the butt, which Zazzalil received with an exaggerated yelp.

"We’re not _there_ ," Jemilla said, "We’re not going anywhere."

Zazzalil sighed dramatically.

"Then what’s the point, J-Mills?"

Jemilla smirked. She did love whiny Zazzalil from time to time. These days, from time to time was just about the frequency of her bad mood anyways, usually much more cheerful and engaged, a special treat for Jemilla’s guilty pleasure at her mild suffering. She switched the basket to her other hand to grab Zazzalil’s.

"To enjoy each other," she said and pulled the hand to her mouth to kiss Zazzalil’s palm. "A treat."

A dissatisfied grumble was her only reply. Without any warning, Zazzalil dropped to the ground, sprawled flat on her back and staring at the blue, blue sky overhead between foliage. She smiled lazily at the beauty of everything around her, then at Jemilla. Her limbs made a cross on the grass like the final location of a treasure map.

"Let’s enjoy each other, then," she said. "I know you got food in there, don’t leave me hanging."

Jemilla smirked but took the offer gladly. A relationship, she had found, was made of endlessly conceding to your partner and to know that she would be just as obliging in return. Zazzalil loved to enjoy the present moment, to find a quiet place and stay there to enjoy it to her heart’s content. Jemilla loved to be more active, to put her arms and wits to good use, to love and to lead the people around her. Their happiness together lay somewhere in between.

"Here you go," she said, sharing the food between them and granting Zazzalil the greater portions she seemed to covet. "Enjoy, babe."

This garden was all duality. It was quiet but bustling with life, peaceful but filled with the constant not-so-distant buzz of its dwellers, a haven of safety but always changing and thriving. Its wildness reminded her of her lovely little lover. It too was not to be tamed, but to be nurtured, loved, appreciated for what it could be, for what it had become.

"This is nice," Zazzalil said through a too large mouthful and her voice was specked with crumbs. Jemilla grimaced and shook her head with fondness, handing her a napkin Zazzalil had neglected to take out of the basket. "It’s really good, babe."

Jemilla smiled at the spectacle of Zazzalil gorging herself on what she had brought. She was always in a rush, always pressed for more time, more treats, more everything. The race had seemed so pointless to her before, not that long ago. Now, she kept up as best she could.

"If you’re good, you’ll get dessert," she said teasingly.

Zazzalil glanced at her and gulped down what she had been eating. She poked at her side with a finger.

"I’ve been good and you know it. I’m the _best_."

Jemilla took her hand in hers, kissed the knuckles and marveled at the flustered grin Zazzalil gave her every time she paid such attentions. They had lived here together for a few months now, enough to have become somewhat accustomed to the new reality of the world, but somehow not yet long enough that they had taken in what that meant for each other, not completely and especially not on Zazzalil’s part. Often, she seemed worried to be scolded again like in the old days and she made up for it with all the sass in the reborn world. Jemilla wished she could instill in her exactly how cherished she was, how little she needed to worry about their relation ever faltering from them.

"Yeah," Jemilla said and scooted a little closer to kiss her cheek. "You are."

They gazed at each other amorously. The meal was over, Jemilla decided and set her leftovers aside. Just as she was about to turn back to Zazzalil, however, she found her jumping up on her feet, hopping from one bush to the next and gathering berries from each of them into her bowl.

"What the…"

Zazzalil shamelessly shoved a large handful of redcurrant down her throat and grabbed some more from the bush to replenish the bowl. Once it was heaping, she finally decided she had plucked the right amount and she sat down next to Jemilla again.

"You think you’ve got enough?" Jemilla asked, smirking.

"Huh?"

Zazzalil glanced at her, at the packed bowl, then at Jemilla again. She offered her a handful of berries but when Jemilla held up her palm to receive them, Zazzalil insisted on dropping them into her mouth herself. The whole enterprise ended being much more of a choking hazard than foreseen and Zazzalil burst out laughing as Jemilla had to splutter out the excess and almost made a mess.

"You’re just not an expert like I am," she bragged.

Another handful of berries was wolfed down and Jemilla could only smile at her eagerness. Zazzalil could be so much like a child sometimes, like she had been all those years ago when it had just been the three of them and Molag. Their lives were a little more fleshed out, their horizons broadened into verdant bliss, but Zazzalil was at her core still the glutton disobedient kid she had always been. At least it had stopped being so annoying. Jemilla grabbed the bowl from her hands to put it aside.

" _Hey!_ I was…" Zazzalil protested. Jemilla put two fingers under her chin to turn her face to her for a kiss. "… eating that…"

A hand at Zazzalil’s thigh, riding up but back down so as not to entice too fast, she smiled with barely veiled victory. Zazzalil’s mouth had dropped open, very pink lips that tasted like dessert. Up again and the mouth closed as she gulped.

"I’m hungry too," Jemilla said. "I’m fucking starving, babe."

The same awkward chuckle as always, so goofy and so fucking hot. Jemilla could never get her fill of it. She leaned in to kiss her again and Zazzalil fell into her embrace so easily it was a wonder she had hesitated at all. Jemilla loved holding her, her waist just the slightest bit more pudgy since they had settled here in all the comfort their world had to offer, the way Zazzalil pressed herself into the touch, how desperate she was to be showed love. Jemilla showed her alright. She showed her every day, every night, and yet more was bursting inside of her with every passing moment and begged to be let out. Sometimes, she felt as wild as Zazzalil, so bright the passion burned inside.

They parted from the kiss to look at each other and Zazzalil, who had been slouched so snug into her arms, now leaned back up with another smashed handful of berries in her fingers. Grabbed at some point during the kiss, no doubt, though crushed by having been held too long and too tight, she downed them all the same with a pleased grin at Jemilla’s marked disgust.

"You are so fucking gross, you know that?" Jemilla said, though she meant it with fondness and even love.

Zazzalil was licking her fingers, though the juice had stained them and they were still all hues of pinks and purples. She was insufferably smug and Jemilla grabbed both hands in one of hers, pinning them over Zazzalil’s head as she lay her down onto the soft green grass.

"There," she said proudly. "No more fucking berries."

Zazzalil pretended to fight from the grasp, though they both knew it was loose enough that she could have broken free in an instant without effort. She was pushing up her hips weakly, more for her pleasure than to really try and shove Jemilla out of the way, for she was grinning under her kiss when Jemilla leaned to devour her. When she freed her hands again, they buried into Jemilla’s curly hair to keep her close.

"Alright," she said, "If you must."

Jemilla huffed with silent laughter. Down her jaw the trail of kisses, down her neck sweaty from having walked so long for Zazzalil’s lazy taste, kissing the lovely line of her collarbones, her breasts through the fabric of her tank top. Zazz made to tug at the edge and Jemilla graciously pulled it off for her, covering the skin exposed with not so soft caresses.

"There we go," she muttered as Zazzalil moaned already. Tongue around her nipple, fingers at the other, a pulsing heartbeat right at the surface. "That’s better."

Jemilla had known other partners before. Settlements on their path, other travelers looking for the same solace as she did, perhaps her only way to be a little rash. Zazzalil, wild and loose and unpredictable in all other ways, had had no lover before her. The one spot in each other’s personalities that seemed to belong to the other and yet that was theirs, the one quirk in an overall sharp split between the two. She liked that. The selfish, jealous part of her loved knowing that Zazzalil’s heart was hers alone, as was her pleasure. The more rational part of her didn’t care and never mentioned it. All the years prior meant nothing to the vastness of a shared future.

"That’s nice," Zazzalil sighed comfortably. "That’s really nice, I like that."

The brush of wind in their hair, against their skin, the noises of the garden prompting them on, the soft sighs and whimpers Zazzalil gave her for a reward, Jemilla felt perfectly at peace within herself, with the world around, with the woman she loved. Her palm pressed between Zazzalil’s legs through the coarse dirty fabric of her shorts and Zazzalil reached down to unbutton them and push them down a little. Jemilla smiled at the skin of her breasts for such eagerness.

"I’m getting there," she told her. "Don’t pressure me."

"I’m not pressuring you," Zazzalil retorted as if she had been slighted. " _You_ said you were starving."

Down and down the stomach in the slowest, the softest path of kisses to try in vain to teach Zazzalil the virtue of patience. Still, she helped her out of the shorts and the whimper she got when her fingers touched her was reward enough. Two fingers toying with the clit just short of enough to truly please Zazzalil as she looked into her eyes for the permission she knew she had. She leaned down again and laid there as comfortably as she ever had on the soft cushiony grass of the garden.

"I am," she said softly. Her breath made a caress against Zazzalil which left her moaning. "I’m starved of you."

It was all words of seduction, they both knew. In the fort of the Great Garden, they had made a room their own and in the privacy of it, their love was feasted every day. It was never enough, though. The way Zazzalil’s sharp edge fit just perfectly snug with hers made her crave her always, every instant of her life. She could not imagine a future where she didn’t spend every day with Zazzalil, whether in bliss or in bicker. Both were equally appealing.

"Come on, J-Mills," Zazzalil grumbled.

Her legs tightened around Jemilla’s shoulders.

"Oh, _now_ you don’t wanna be distracted, huh?"

But she had mercy for the poor begging woman. Tongue at her clit that left her panting, for the touch was now just a tad too much, but nothing she couldn’t handle, Jemilla knew. Two fingers pressed inside and found her slick and more so with every passing hot breath she heard like a thunder, so focused on Zazz she was. The same sweet acidic taste as ever, the same hurry in the way Zazzalil’s hips pressed up into the caress of her mouth. Jemilla flattened a hand against her stomach to calm her down, to keep her to the ground.

"I got you," she muttered softly. "I got you, babe, don’t rush."

"Mmmh, yeah you do…"

If it were up to Jemilla, they might have laid here for days or for hours. She never tired of loving Zazzalil. She never tired of showing it. The touches of her tongue were ever fluctuating, for she brought the pace back down to a slurred tease when she felt Zazz get too eager and overexcited. And when she felt her ready for more again, then she gave her everything, but inevitably then the point was reached again when she thought Zazzalil would be too close and she slowed down accordingly. It reminded her of dancing. Or sparring. With Zazzalil, argument and adoration were often two sides of the same coin.

"You taste fucking great, babe," she said for the reward of Zazzalil whimpering at every compliment. "Better than anything in the world."

"Uh huh."

The muffled sounds made Jemilla tick just slightly and she looked up. If she hadn’t been so endeared, she would have been in utter consternation.

"… Are you still fucking eating?"

Zazzalil looked like a prey trapped and cornered. She gulped, thickly swallowing the content of her very round cheeks. Her lips were burgundy and purple, smudges around them and at her fingers. The bowl sat near empty right next to her.

"Ehhh…"

Jemilla’s heart throbbed with a burst of fondness and she shook her head, smiling.

"I can’t fucking believe you," she said. Her mouth back between her legs, her tongue at her clit to taunt her for a second before pulling back again and Zazzalil whined softly. "You’re impossible, and I love you."

"Love you too," she said like an apology, as if she were nothing more than a child scolded for sneaking a snack from the rations. There were no rations in the Great Garden. There was no limit to them treating themselves and each other. There were hardly any rules other than being kind to others and following the passions of your heart. And, in Zazzalil’s case, of her stomach.

As a punishment or a reward, Jemilla couldn’t have said, she let Zazzalil finish off her dessert while she had the last taste of her own. It didn’t take much to make Zazzalil come − if anything, the efforts were put in not making their trysts too short, or in giving herself the challenge of making her come any amount of times she fixed herself to. Jemilla was always up for a challenge, but for now just the once would suffice. A sharper curl of her fingers inside, something more steady in the caress of her tongue at Zazzalil’s clit and she had her in whimpers. She loved the way she came, a sudden burst of all of Zazzy’s more primal instincts, how tight around her fingers and how every limb of her tensed up around Jemilla almost forcefully before loosening so soft and floppy it was a miracle she could have been so strung just a moment prior. Jemilla pulled out her fingers and sucked them clean, which made Zazzalil moan softly and close her eyes, dropping dead against the ground in complete satisfaction. This perhaps more than anything in the reborn world filled Jemilla with smug pride.

"You gimme a few," Zazzalil said, "And I’ll do you. Get comfy here, babe, I’ll be right there."

She patted the ground next to her but Jemilla had no such plan to obey. She pulled down her jeans and her underwear to straddle Zazzalil’s hips, whose eyes snapped open, startled. Jemilla caught her arms above her head and had a look at the fingers.

"Not with those filthy fingers, you won’t," she said with a superior smirk. "You want me to fucking die of infection, Zazz?"

Zazzalil was all grump and frowns as she stared up at Jemilla so comfortably seated. Skin against skin, the heat of them clashing with the milder air of the garden.

"So what, you’re gonna make me go all the fuck back to the pond or the kitchen to wash my hands or something?"

Jemilla loved how quickly Zazzalil could turn from entranced to bratty, how fast her whims always swayed. This worked at her advantage in that, whenever Zazz pretended to be slighted, her good cheer was just one clever retort away if Jemilla could find the right thing to do or to say. She always, always could.

"I didn’t say you had to use your fingers," she said. "I was thinking you could use other parts."

Smartass as she was, Zazzalil was not catching on and her brows furrowed even deeper.

"What the fuck other parts do I…" Jemilla scooted closer so that her hips entrapped Zazzalil’s face. "… Oh."

Jemilla dropped Zazzalil’s arms and her smudged dirty fingers grabbed her butt to bring her to her mouth. To her credit, not a moment of hesitation before she started devouring her. Not so much as a warning either, as Zazzalil always dove right into the heat of anything without the proper preparation. Jemilla groaned and caught herself backwards, her palms resting on the ground to balance herself better.

" _Fuck_ ," she blurted out. "You’re on fire."

"No, _you_ ," Zazzalil retorted in a taunting cutesy voice, though Jemilla saw her grinning between her legs.

Of course, her mouth was just as nasty as the fingers. One day, she would have to be taught manners. Jemilla already volunteered herself as a potential teacher. Zazzalil’s tongue pressed inside of her to give her the deepest, the most intimate of kisses and Jemilla moaned and forgot about all of Zazzalil’s crudity. When at her service, they were somehow negligible. When Zazzalil loved her, then the way she did it was somehow always impeccable just for the result of it. Trust, Jemilla had found, was the building block of it all and, dirty and easily distracted as she was, Jemilla had never trusted anyone so much as she did Zazzalil. Not even close.

"You do me good, babe," she said softly. One hand caught into Zazzalil’s ponytail to hold tight and also to direct her a little bit, which made Zazzalil grunt in satisfaction. Her tongue now at her clit pressed insistent circles and Jemilla’s legs trembled a little. "You’re so good to me when you wanna."

Zazzalil’s head backed into the ground a little to speak and she let out a low yelp of pain, but she was still smiling.

"I’m the best, I told you," she said and Jemilla smiled back.

"Yeah, you are," she replied truthfully.

Zazzalil was so eager to please when she put her mind to it. Jemilla felt like her lips, her tongue were everywhere at once and it did not take her that long to reach the same pleasure as she had given. She could feel the imprint of Zazzalil’s smirk in the touch of her lips when she came, the spark in her eyes as Jemilla ground herself into her mouth a little to ride it out. Her eyes closed for a second and yet she saw stars and galaxies all the better at Zazzalil’s caress insisting through it all till Jemilla gently tugged at the ponytail to tell her to stop.

For just a few seconds she didn’t want to move, only to bask for a little longer in the pretty sight underneath. Zazzalil’s lids were heavy and she gave her a lazy grin. Her hands palmed Jemilla’s thighs gently and she looked like she could have remained there indefinitely. Jemilla’s fingers loosened from her curls and dropped to her cheeks, brushed softly. Sweaty, hot skin right at her fingertips. She rolled off.

"That was so good," Zazzalil sighed out contentedly.

She stretched in all her length, snuggling into Jemilla’s embrace before Jemilla even thought to offer it. They were a bit too hot to cling so snug but the thought of not holding Zazz was insufferable to her and she held on tight. A kiss against Zazzalil’s temple and her little lover perked up for a better, lazier kiss at the lips.

"Yeah, it was," Jemilla said. Her hand combed through Zazzalil’s hair leisurely, a little damp from sweat and from having been on the ground for long. Their breaths were starting to slow down and to match each other. "You’ve got game."

"Mmh, you’re not that bad either."

Jemilla huffed. She was feeling so very satisfied. At some point, they would have to go back to the fort, they would spend the night in a soft bed. Or maybe they wouldn’t and Jemilla would let herself be persuaded to sleep under the stars at the cost of critters waking them up in the morning. She would do whatever Zazzalil pleased. Loving her was the same under a roof, under the sky, under the thick foliage of bright green trees. Their lives had always been entwined and now their yearning souls were too. This time and forever, Jemilla would go anywhere, do anything at all, as long as they did it together.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave comments y’all. And tell me if there’s any other pairing from If We Ever Grow Apart you’d read a smut outtake for.


End file.
